


baby, it's okay, someday

by writing_good_vibes



Category: The Eyes of Laura Mars (1978)
Genre: Breakfast, Driving, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Money, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Tommy is a sweetheart, class issues (sort of), mention of robbery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_good_vibes/pseuds/writing_good_vibes
Summary: Manhattan, New York City, 1977.Life in Manhattan is tough, but working for Miss Mars has it's upsides.(Tommy Ludlow x Reader)
Relationships: Tommy Ludlow/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	baby, it's okay, someday

**Author's Note:**

> tommy is a sweetheart there is no content for him !! you have a cute breakfast (not) date with him while you're meant to be working..

You tried to stifle a yawn. You’d been awake since 6 that morning, and it was nearing _11_ in the evening. Being Laura Mars’ assistant paid fairly well, but the hours were continuous and hectic. You’d spent all day trailing around after Miss Mars, bringing her coffee in the morning, a salad at lunch and a sandwich from the polish deli around dinner, as well as keeping track of her diary and making sure the shoot they were doing didn’t run over schedule.

It had been a _long_ day.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Miss Mars said, looking up at you from her desk as you took the final stack of photographs from her and placed them in the correct pigeon-hole, “I know it’s been a manic day today, but at least the bulk of this shoot is finished now.”

She was just packing away her diary into her purse after spending the evening in her studio, but now the pair of you were heading home for the night.

“No problem, Miss Mars,” you replied, grabbing your coat from the chair in front of her desk, “I think this shoot went really well, you just let me know if any reshoots are needed and I’ll get right onto it.”

“Maybe we will, but it’ll have to wait till I finish developing everything from this week, so I can match up the exposure in reshoots.”

You nodded sagely, just more work with less time to do it in, you thought. You switched off the lights as you both left the studio, heading out front to where Tommy was waiting in the car.

When he saw you both approaching, he flicked the headlights on, jumping out to hold the door open for Miss Mars.

“Thank you, Tommy,” she said, getting in to the car and settling herself in the backseat, her tone even and polite.

You smiled at him. Tommy had been Miss Mars’ driver for about as long as you had been her assistant, so you’d grown fairly close over the years. Because of the long and unconventional hours that you ended up working, Tommy often drove you home after dropping Miss Mars off at her apartment, not wanting you to walk alone through the city.

You climbed into the passenger seat, finally relaxing as the rumble of the engine and the soft darkness of the car enveloped you.

The three of you spoke very little, besides Miss Mars reminding you both that she had a meeting tomorrow with Mr Phelps at 10 a.m., so could you _please_ be at her apartment building by 9. You almost sighed with relief that you could have something resembling a lie-in.

“Of course, Miss Mars, we’ll be there, 9 o’clock sharp,” Tommy replied, nodding at her through the rear-view mirror. You took that to mean he would pick you up on his way, saving you the hassle of getting the subway.

When you finally dropped Miss Mars at her building, Tommy started the much shorter drive to your own apartment.

“I’m gonna pass out as soon as I step foot though my door,” you sighed, stifling another yawn, “I wouldn’t mind but what did I need to be around at 6 a.m. for when it was just the girls getting ready?”

Tommy gave a half laugh of agreement, lighting another cigarette. “How d’you think I feel, wherever she goes, I go, even if it is at 6 in the mornin’.”

You leant forwards and fiddled with the radio, turning it on but leaving the volume low enough that you could still talk to Tommy.

“What have you wasted the day away doin’?” you asked, remembering how he’d made himself scarce sometime around 2 p.m. You felt kinda bad for Tommy, he was close enough to the circle for people to know his name, but just enough on the edge that he was routinely brushed off or ignore. He just waited around a lot whilst ‘more important’ people did ‘more important’ business.

_It had been a hectic day of shooting, your eye had been constantly on the clock, every minute was important; a minute over here and there needed to be recouped somewhere else. Usually, it was your job to make that happen, unfortunately. Tommy hung around for a while, lurking around the studio whilst the hustle and bustle of shooting took place._

_At some point, Mr Phelps had caught you, he seemed irritated, “Where’s Tommy?” he asked._

_You didn’t know. “Gone to get a coffee,” you lied._

_Phelps wasn’t happy, but he swanned back to Miss Mars’ side, eager not be left out of the action in an effort to micromanage the gofer._

_Lights being adjusted, plumes of hairspray making the air thick, a stark contrast to the hollowness there was in the studio when everyone got to go home. Everyone except for you, Tommy and Miss Mars._

He gave another half laugh, “Oh, nothing much,” he looked over at you and smiled. Hands tapping on the steering wheel in time with the radio.

“Do you wanna have lunch with me whilst Miss Mars is in her meeting?”

The two of you had made a habit of eating together when possible, really just for some company during the long hours that Miss Mars had better things to do and left you to your own devices until she had use for you again. Sometimes during shoots you’d sneak away to get a coffee or a sandwich, sitting in Tommy’s car with your feet on the dash, listening to the radio. Hanging out with Tommy during the day was the most fun you had, a much-needed break from the slog of keeping track of meetings and schedules. Though it did make the disappointment when one of you was sent off on another errand all the more prominent.

He raised his eyebrows, “Lunch? At 10 a.m.?”

You smirked at his pedantry, “Well, breakfast then?”

“Sure.”

You smiled in agreement. The both of you continued to talk, bantering between yourselves companionably.

Soon you pulled up to your apartment building, it’s dilapidated red-brick façade looming over the narrow street.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, getting out the car and shutting the door. You leaned back in through the open window.

“No problem,” he drawled, “Pick you up at 8:30?”

“Thanks,” you smiled and stepped back onto the curb, waving as you buzzed into the building.

***

The next morning, you were still tired when you woke up at the comparably late hour of 8 o’clock. Rolling out of bed, you put a pot of coffee on the stove to brew and took a quick shower in your cramped bathroom.

Drying your hair off with a towel, you poured a coffee and turned the radio on to provide some background noise.

By half past you were dressed and heading out the door, throwing your keys back into your bag and checking you had your day planner with you.

Tommy was already waiting outside, collar of his brown jacket turned up against the chill of the morning as he leant against his station wagon, smoking. “Mornin’,” he greeted you, flicking the butt into the drain. He got back in the car, turning the ignition.

“Mornin’,” you replied, getting in the passenger seat, dropping your bag in the footwell.

“Decided where you wanna go for breakfast yet?”

You looked over at him, tucking your still-damp hair behind your ears, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe that diner on Varick and Broome?”

“Sure thing, we can do that.” Tommy pulled away from the curb and headed in the direction of Miss Mars’ building. Tommy knew Manhattan inside out, taking several short cuts to avoid the morning traffic. He was from Hell’s Kitchen, still lived there, and could walk the streets with his eyes shut.

When you got to Miss Mars’ apartment, it was only 8:50, so you lit a cigarette. “At least some of the pressure is off now the main shoot is over,” you said, taping the ash out the window.

He shrugged non committedly, taking another drag on his smoke, “I suppose, not that I know much about it.”

“You’re around on set enough.”

“Have nowhere else to be,” his voice was distant.

You looked at him, giving an understanding smile. You felt it bad enough yourself being the go between for everyone and everything, dragged here, there and everywhere for the sake of Miss Mars’ art, but Tommy had it worse. Left in the car or fetching-and-carrying the things no one else wanted to. Being the ‘staff’ was kind of a bummer sometimes.

At almost 9 a.m. exactly, Miss Mars left her building. Tommy jumped out to get the door for her.

“Good morning, Miss Mars,” he bowed his head politely. You hated when he did that.

“Good morning, Tommy,” she said, getting into the backseat, “and good morning to you too, (Y/N).”

“Good morning, Miss Mars,” you said, bowing your head politely.

After pleasantries were out of the way, Tommy set off in the direction of the studio. The traffic was fairly bad at this time, with every man and he dog trying to get somewhere or other.

When you arrived, it was only 9:30, but Miss Mars said she had work she could be getting on with before the meeting. You cringed, thinking she would ask you to stay to help her get ready, but she didn’t. You and Tommy sat at your desk in the back of the studio while you replied to some correspondence with journalists, all wanting interviews, or willing to pay _you_ for information about the behind the scenes of the last shoot.

Tommy flicked through his playing cards, contentedly playing solitaire on the other side of the desk.

Once 10 o’clock rolled around, Mr Phelps swanned in, coat billowing behind him. _Bouffant_ billowing behind him.

They had financial business to discuss, things they (or at least Mr Phelps) didn’t want Tommy listening in on.

“Miss Mars, if you don’t mind,” you began, picking up your correspondence file and shoving it in your bag, along with the planner, “I have a few errands to run, and you told me to go put in the order for 35mm, is it okay if I do that whilst you and Mr Phelps have your meeting?”

“Of course,” she said breezily, “go ahead, we should be finished by 12, don’t you think Donald?”

“Yes, I should have thought so,” he replied, taking his long coat off and making himself at home.

“Brilliant, I’ll be back by then, Miss Mars,” you promised, pulling your bag onto your shoulder and edging towards the door.

“Thank you for doing the film order, as well.”

“No problem, Miss Mars.”

Tommy didn’t say anything, but headed towards the door with you before Miss Mars called after him.

“Oh, Tommy, could you be back by 12 too?”

“Sure thing, Miss Mars,” he nodded diligently.

The both of you made it outside, heading towards the car.

“Varick?” Tommy asked, tossing his keys into the air and catching them swiftly.

“If you’re still down,” you smiled, “What you gonna get?”

“I don’t know,” he mused, “Maybe some bacon, eggs…” He always got bacon and eggs when you went for breakfast, that and a black coffee.

“I’m feeling pancakes today, but I might have bacon on the side.”

You flicked the radio on as you drove, singing along softly.

Arriving at the diner, you slid into a booth on the back wall, Tommy sitting opposite you. The waitress arrived and took your orders, bringing a pot of coffee over before your food arrived.

Looking down at the cards in his hands, splitting the deck and reshuffling it, Tommy spoke, “Are you gonna work for Miss Mars forever?”

You frowned. You hadn’t really thought about it. It was steady enough job, and kept a roof over your head. Miss Mars was nice enough, and you’d got into some pretty exclusive parties, but did you want to do this forever? You supposed not.

“I suppose not,” you replied, shrugging, “I mean, I don’t want to be an assistant forever, but if it keeps a roof over my head, then I’ll take what I can get.”

Tommy’s eyes were clear and pointed when he met your gaze.

“Why? Will you?”

“Better than bein’ in the joint.”

You knew Tommy had priors, but that was part and parcel of living in New York. Somehow, you had to make ends meet; sometimes, it was by any means possible.

“You won’t be goin’ back inside, right?” you tried to be reassuring, even though it was really something you had no control over. You thought he was paid well enough here to keep on the straight and narrow, but sometimes you just can’t escape the rat race.

“Yeah,” he drawled, combing a hand through his hair, which returned to its original place immediately.

The waitress arrived with two steaming plates. Your pancakes, bacon piled at the side and his bacon and eggs, sprinkled with salt and pepper. You had an easy time, talking about everything and nothing; what you did last weekend, a funny story you remembered from school, even coaxing him into telling a few stories of his own, about the roughest bar fight he’d been in, how his younger siblings were doing in school.

“We should do this more often,” you suggested, checking your watch as you sipped your coffee (milk and sugar).

He half nodded, sipping his own coffee (black), “Whatever you want.”

Tommy was a great friend and all, but sometimes his whole ‘man of few words’ schtick got on your nerves. You knew he was probably just used to keeping his mouth shut, no one at work being particularly interested in him.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Nothing much, this and that,” he said, eyes fixed on you in an almost quizzical stare.

“Wanna hang with me?”

He tried to hold back a smile, but didn’t, “Sure thing.”


End file.
